


Battle simulation

by Forestranger



Series: Mon Repos chronicles [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 05:05:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17822441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forestranger/pseuds/Forestranger
Summary: There is a battle simulation scheduled on the Executor. Piett is tired, Ozzel is lazy and Vader is not in a good mood.





	Battle simulation

The beginning of Piett’s bad day started off relatively tame, as all such days do. The first sign was his datapad breaking down early in the morning. It didn’t cause him much trouble, but running from his quarters to the maintenance room and back didn’t leave him much time before his shift started. 

The second sign was his messages about the upcoming battle simulation going unanswered. Not like the admiral has ever bothered doing so in the past. But Piett’s instincts told him that today, Ozzel’s laziness will result in something not entirely good.

But the day would not have been a total disaster, if Lord Vader hadn’t decided to reschedule the simulation from the next day to the end of Piett’s shift.  
He sighed when the message from Vader came, turning sharply on his heels to go back down the way he came, the direction directly opposite his quarters. 

When he arrived at the bridge, he was greeted by Ozzel’s lovely face. 

»Sir.« he saluted. Even though he hated the man, it didn’t change the fact that he was his superior, and superiors needed to be addressed properly. Even if they were total jerks. Besides, being polite never hurt.

But before Ozzel could reply, the durasteel doors on the bridge swished open and mechanical breathing filled the room. Darth Vader walked down the command walkway, and the room went quiet. He came to a halt before the two men. 

»My lord.« Admiral greeted, bowing slightly, with a faint trace of disdain in his voice. Piett echoed him, albeit more politely. The Sith made an unintelligible noise, obviously not to pleased with his subordinates. Or maybe with his life. Or the emperor. You could never be a hundred percent sure with Vader. Then his gaze shifted to him.

Few men could claim the Sith’s red gaze didn’t intimidate them, one of them being general Veers. Dubbed Iron Max, he lived up to his name in body and spirit. Most officers, even the most dull brained ensigns knew that.

But Piett certainly wasn’t one of them. Even the mention of his commander’s name sent shivers down his spine, and the sound of mechanical breathing haunted his dreams. The results were the Executor CMO’s death glares he received every time she saw him in the hallways, probably because he was quickly reducing the ships painkiller and sedatives supplies.  
He banished those thoughts away and gulped, waiting for his commander to speak.

»Is the Death squadron ready captain?« Vader asked after a pause. Piett suppressed the urge to gulp again, and instead nodded.

»Yes, my lord. We are ready to begin on your command.«

»Good.« Vader’s attention moved back to Ozzel. 

»Admiral, you may begin.« The fat officer bowed again and turned to the viewports. 

Piett took his position next to the datapits, mentally preparing himself for the absolute clusterfuck that was about to unfold.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own any official characters, all belong to their rightful owners.  
> Kudos are love, comments are life :)


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